Echoes of One's Past
by Seph
Summary: Saitou is in Tokyo again for a new, dangerous job. Regrettably, being there means having to deal with Sanosuke as well. With Sano refusing to leave him alone, can the wolf resolve these dangers before his past shadows catch them? No pairing, Revised 2007
1. Chapter 0 Prologue

**Echoes Of One's Past**

_Disclaimer:_ The characters of Rurouni Kenshin do not belong to me. I am just borrowing them for my own little circus of thoughts. In no way is my depiction of their thoughts and actions reflecting those in the series, though I did my best in an imitation of them. However, secondary characters, villains, and lackeys are of my own making.

_Author's Notes:_ This is my first time [third time re- writing a RK fic, so I hope everyone will be lenient on their judging of this. I tried my best to retain characters to their personalities, and I'm sorry if any one of them might sound a bit off (especially after putting down Kenshin for 5 years). Also, I hope those who enjoyed my RK X-mas Carols may enjoy this as well. Anyhow, on with the story!

_EDIT_: Revised and partially rewritten September 24, 2007. The other chapters will be continually revised/placed up over the course of the following months. It's a thing _way_ overdue.

**Prologue**

"Hey, haul that box over to the other end! Those don't belong with _these _boxes," an unidentified voice shouted loudly across the night air and above the din of the dozen working men. From the other side of the _Ragnarok_, another voice rose over the clamor as well, this one shrieking impatiently for the laborers to speed up their movements.

Stood apart from the others, an individual watched the bustle with a bored attitude plastered to his young face. This person was part of, yet detached from the rest of the twenty or so men, most of which were walking back and forth on the wooden planks that linked the ship's lower opening to the wooden docks. He alone was immobile as he leaned against the lamppost with his arms crossed casually over his chest. The soft summer wind rustled his crown of dark hair with a gentle hand and teased the frayed edges of his well-worn robe. All in all, it was a fine night. The breeze kept him company and the sky was undisturbed by clouds such that it remained clear for stargazing.

Had he not been low on cash, he would never have given this place a second glance. The workers were just unloading crates of ancient tea leaves from the merchant trader, an unlikely venture for someone to waste time attacking. A friend had suggested this job for him, and he had to admit, it did come with a fair amount of salary for one night. The only set back was its lack of activity, but he could handle a little boredom if it meant an instant income of cash. Money was money, and pay was pay, so here he was, watching the perimeters like a tired watch dog in case anyone decided to disturb the night's peace.

-------------

Unnoticed in another corner of the harbor, the Metropolitan Tokyo police force observed the activity with adept attention. Ten of them pooled hidden in the darkness, blended against the shadows between the cargo houses by their deep blue uniforms. Across the wharf nearby, a similar group was stationed, identically hidden in the shadows but for hiding between two anchoring ships.

They were here on a job as well, concurrent to the guarding of the shipment but on distinctively mismatching ends. Just a few short days ago, the local chief received an anonymous tip about a large shipment of opium scheduled to arrive tonight. The message was verified and earlier on this same day, roughly an hour prior to sunset, a massive foreign trader sailed in with her flags blowing wildly. Guided by the light of the city, she had docked at port 67 where she had been left alone. Until midnight, until now. Once the moon shone brightly above the sleeping city, the men who owned her finally began unloading her flanks. The police watched as men crawled out from her like so many gnats out of woodwork and set to work under the dim guidance of hanging lamps. Boxes upon boxes were brought up from her interior hold and one by one they were loaded onto wagons with smooth precision.

The task to arrest and confiscate the illegal substance was handed down from the superintendent to the inspector who further gave it to the underling assistant inspector; whom at the moment monitored the shipment with the police group stationed by the storage houses. He was a tall man, standing out taller than the rest of the force. Dressed as all his other comrades were, he wore the customary navy blue uniform, buttoned up, on top of a thin black top. A uniform supplied hat enshrouded the rest of his face with shadows that the cargo houses had not provided and white gloves concealed the sword calluses which littered across his hands, both left and right. Like a small part of the police force, a blade ordained his left belt, labeling him as part of the chosen group to wear a sword in the peaceful Meiji era. Nothing of which established him as the mission's leader was worn, but he commanded an air of power that few argued, even if they were unaware that he was the director of the raid.

It was a clever time for doing such shady business, he had to admit as he watched the workers haul heavy crates in pairs down weathered planks to the dock. The harbors were open for work during all hours of the day and hence no one would suspect people working so late at night. Yet conveniently, at night there would only be half the amount of people busying the area, and half the number of witness. If the police had not been tipped off in the first place, he had to wonder if they would ever catch this shipment. _How many had went by unnoticed in the past?_

"It's time," he said before dropping a half burnt cigarette from his gloved fingers. The dot of red spiraled down like its smoke tendrils to the ground, glowing with its lambent orange until it was crushed beneath the leather black sole of his boot. As if that was the awaited signal for the other end of the harbor, the second hidden force began their movements as well. Both sides progressed at the same time, rushing out onto the concrete platform to arrest the criminals.

-------------

One minute he was leaning against the lamppost staring at the stars above, and the next thing he knew, they were under attack. _Somebody really bothered to steal away boxes of tea!? _Prior to being employed, the man in charge did warn him that the tea leaves in the shipment were "rare and expensive", but he had laid those cautions under a paranoid merchant's banter. He never thought someone was really stupid enough to waste time on tea! It was only leaves after all!

The sentry on the boat seemed to have noticed they were under attack the same time he had, and shouted a warning loud enough for the whole area. Chaos erupted on the echoes of those words, creating even more confusion in the darkness of the crowded harbor.

_Two groups of people,_ he quickly noticed, _roughly ten on each side. _Even as he took in the details, the place was becoming quickly filled with activity as both the attackers and defenders brought out weapons. He thought he saw the rushing opposition brandishing weapons of the longer sort. _Staffs?_ _Swords?_ There were reflections of light on a few, so there must be at least some swords.

Sagara Sanosuke smiled confidently as he pushed himself back from the lamppost. Even without the circle of light, his white robe with the _Aku_ character still stood out like a beacon in the night's darkness. The wind blew again, this time playful with the ends of his red headband, marking him brightly for all those rushing men to see. "You'll have to get past me first!" Smashing his bandaged right fist into his open left hand, Sano grinned at the oncoming men. It was too dark to identify them clearly, these troublemakers who all wore a similar set of dark clothing that may or may not have been a uniform.

A familiar bell rang at the back of his mind like an irritating itch but Sano waved it off with another smash of his hands together. If he could not remember it, it was likely unimportant. There were other more significant details to worry about.

Like the first attacker coming at him with his long staff held high above his head, positioning it to as if to club down on Sano's head. At least, that was probably what the man intended to do, but when the wooden weapon came down, instead of contacting upon his crest of unkempt brown hair, Sano suddenly pulled his arm up. There was a loud snapping noise as the unbending staff came down on his forearm and the thin weapon splintered. Wood chips rained down on both of them, covering the immediate area with small pieces of broken timber. In between the time it took for his attacker to realize what had happened and try to act on it, Sano's left fist jutted out in a solid punch in retaliation. He felt it land somewhere in his opponent's midsection and backed it with enough strength to send the man hurling through several stacked boxes. "Ha!" The first victory was his!

The second and third attackers met with similar fates. The first one ended up with his staff and nose broken seeing they both stood in the path of his fists, and the second was disarmed of his western saber in a matter of seconds. With his forearm, he had managed to knock the first swing of the blade aside and followed through by breaking his opponent's arm with a downward elbow on the man's arm joint. Both attackers, wounded and disarmed, retreated back after that, each respectively clutching to their own injury.

Adrenaline pumped through Sano's veins as his fist connected with the body of another attacker. Warm flesh gave way beneath his hard punch and a sickening crack of a bone breaking from impact echoed almost as loudly as the man's ensuing scream. "Bring it on!"

By then, Sano was once more wrapped in the heat of battle like he had in the past. The fight was a renaissance of the old days when he, as Zanza, had fought people for money. Those days were really not all that long ago. Only three months had passed since the life and death battle between Kenshin and Shishio, and, in these hundred odd days, the train of their lives had returned more or less to the track it had traveled down before the whole crisis occurred. He still lived in his old shack and continued to mooch free food and borrow money, basically resigning himself to living the life away from his Zanza alter ego. It was boring, but he had vowed to a promise to himself and he would stick by it without reverting to the street gangster. He just never thought that the job would get this interesting. Sano turned just in time to uppercut the most currently attacking man.

"Take care of the others. I'll handle this ahou."

The voice coming from behind him quickly shook Sano of his reminiscences. There was only one man who ever called him an idiot in such self confident and annoying tones, and that one man had been dead for three months. He saw the place go up in flames and even went back afterwards to check, perhaps with some misplaced hope of finding the missing man. That poor bastard was so lost amongst the rubble that used to be Shishio's fortress that not even half a sword was left behind for the street fighter to find. That was as good enough a reason as any to explain why the voice he heard now could not be that bastard's, although it does not explain who it could be.

To that answer, there was one easy way to find out. With a speed that would have impressed even Kenshin, Sano spun on his padded soles at a breakneck pace to confront the owner of the arrogant voice. Even though he knew it was not humanly possible for the dead to return, he knew that, past ghosts returning in dreams aside, but he still could not help but expect the impudent man who he associated with that tone. So with those contradicting feelings, Sano was not more than slightly startled when he found himself staring face to face with a ghost.

Or who perfectly should be a ghost, but was standing there nonetheless, complete from the provoking half smirk down to black booted feet.

Sharp amber eyes stared back at him from behind a long angular face framed with four front spidery bangs. As impeccable in that police uniform as ever before, Saitou Hajime was standing in front of Sano with one gloved hand resting on the black uniform belt and the other hanging by his side. A haughty smirk blazoned from that annoyingly serious face while the officer casually -casually!- ran uncaring eyes over him.

The surprised ex-gangster had trouble believing what his eyes told him. Saitou, that bastard, was alive. Unbidden memories of the last fight blazed across the recesses of Sano's mind: a whole arena falling to flamed pieces, explosions which assaulted the ears so hard he thought he was going to be deaf for life, the sickening sweet smell of roasted human flesh. The sheets of flames shooting up from the depths beneath them were such an untamable force that even Sano had wondered if they would join the mummy's fate after all. Thus when Saitou got separated by the chasm of a collapsed bridge, how could he have expected him to survive that incinerating flare? How could he expect anyone to?

But apparently _this _man had. He had escaped from the destruction of Shishio's fortress while sustaining two heavy wounds to his legs. The man does not even look scarred, and proves himself infallible by standing before Sano once more with his mocking smirk still in place.

Slowly Sano returned from his self induced shock. It probably amused the bastard to think that he had actually believed the Miburo had died for three months. He still did not know how Saitou had survived through those hellish flames, he was doubtful that anyone human could survive through those hellish flames, so if anything, the street fighter could not be blamed for his lack of faith.

The reaction time was slow, but when all was taken in and accepted, there quickly followed the exclamation. "You're alive!"

That unbending smirk did not change and Sano felt his surprise quickly succumbing to anger. For three whole months, he had thought that the arrogant bastard was dead. Dead! And during the first few weeks, he had even stuck around the damage area and mourned for the man in his own way. Now, all of a sudden, the son of a bitch just walks in and dares to call him a moron? It certainly proved how much of an arrogant bastard Saitou Hajime really was, as if Sano had not known that. It also made him want to punch the man's face, hard, very, very hard.

Against such people, Sano was only too glad to allow his rage to goad him into attacking. Not even pausing to think why would Saitou be here in the first place, the ex-gangster attacked. He felt flesh twist beneath his left fist as it collided with the cocky man's face. However, no one was more surprised than himself was when not a second later, Sano found himself landing crudely on his back from a well placed return punch.

"Teme!" He cursed loudly as soon as the wind returned to his lungs. Just how did the bastard get that punch in? Saitou had once berated him for his lack of defense, but after those lengthy battles before and during the fight with Shishio, one would have thought that some sort of defending mechanism would have naturally developed. Not to mention, Sano was certain his blow landed squarely across that angular jaw, then how had the bastard managed to get back at him so quickly?

The cool amber eyes continued to watch him as he tried to scramble back onto his feet. For a moment, Sano thought that this marked the end of the battle, the wolf would stand back and silently gloat like he always did. Except before the thought even completed itself, white gloved hands reached out and grabbed him by the lapels of his open robe and succeeding a strong heave, Saitou hauled him to his feet again. Sano was still too surprised by the haul to respond, and when the harsh lock on both of his wrists came, he only too late repossessed the idea to fight back. Only the bastard was twisting him roughly around already and had his arms immobilized in a shoulder dislocating hold. Normally, if someone tried to hold him down this way, he would have easily broken free with a laugh. However, Saitou obviously knew what he was capable of with his stamina and strength and had chosen to neutralize him properly.

"Yeoch! Hey, watch it!" Struggling proved as futile as his earlier punch, and Sano just ended up with both shoulders aching their displeasure. One last pull nearly dislocated his right arm and that was when he decided it might not be such a bad idea to just go along for the moment. Anyhow, they had been allies -more like cooperating enemies now that Sano thought about it- during the government's crisis with Shishio, so Saitou couldn't be all that bad. There was also the point that he was a police officer, although that did very little to reassure the street fighter of what the man was doing bending his arms back like that.

In fact, it suddenly occurred to him that something was very wrong. Trying to twist his head around to look catch a glimpse at the man behind him, he winced immediately when Saitou responded by pushing him into a forward walk. "Just what the hell are you doing?!"

"Ahou ga, what does it look like? I'm apprehending you for smuggling opium and resisting arrest," came the reply in that overbearing and pitiless voice, but one would be crazy to expect pity from a wolf.

_"WHAT?"_

* * *

**Endnote:**

Just to explain some basic Japanese used.

_Aku _- the kanji for 'Evil'. RuroKen fans should already recognize this as Sanosuke's signature character that he wore on his back, but I'll cover it here anyway.

_ahou_ _(ga) -_ a crude way of saying moron or idiot. Also known as Saitou's signature line in reference to Sano.

_Miburo -_ a nickname procured by the Shinsengumi, taking on the meaning as "wolves of Mibu".

_teme -_ a very vulgar way of saying 'you', equivalent on the level of swearing.


	2. Chapter 1

**Echoes Of One's Past**

_Author's Notes:_ Belated Merry Christmas and early Happy New Year to everyone who reads this! I wanted to put this up on the few days surrounding Christmas, but I guess I never got around to. Well, here is chapter one! Please R&R! (Dec. 2002)

_EDIT:_ After realizing how –hard- it was when I read through my own stories, I am now quite adamant in thinking I will keep to one proper point of view. I blame it on my past record of writing rpg characters for this jumping around.

**Chapter 1**

A rat scurried rapidly across the concrete floor, its sharp nails clicking disgustingly over the hard ground. As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared again through the thick wooden bars of the holding cell, carrying with it a single piece of spoiled meat left forgotten by the occupant of the brig. Its black coat was mangy and matted down with filth, much like many of its large neighbors here, prisoners held beneath the police station as they awaited their trials. The place had the forbidding atmosphere of a large stone coffin carved into tiny sections. Rank dew drops mixed with caked dirt grimed the crude masonry that formed the separating walls. Each individual cell was barricaded by its own fence of wooden bars of half a foot thick. There was barely any room for a man to stick his arm out through the spaces, and with every new influx of prisoners, the area reeked of urine and other undesirable substances.

Over twenty-four hours had passed since the shipment of opium upon the _Ragnarok_ was confiscated. A total of twenty-two people were arrested, all based on the charge of smuggling an illegal substance into the country, referring mainly to the opium, and several more with the extra reason of resisting arrest. During the disarray of the arrest it was unavoidable that several had gotten away, but those few who fled were of so little importance that the police hardly lost a wink of sleep over them. All in all, the raid on the illegal drug ring had been a successful one, and this was a blow to their underground organization that would -hopefully- set them back in their business for some time.

All this Sanosuke had learned from spending the past thirty six hours in the midst of a dirty prison and found absolutely useless in helping him out. As he stared up at the crude prison ceiling and attempted to block the babble of other people's shouts and cries from his mind, he had to wonder how he landed neck deep in this thick mess.

_It's all that bastard willow-head's fault_. _He should've released me in the first place!_ Sanosuke had talked his mouth dry trying to explain why he accidently sent five police officers to the local clinic in the first place, it was a _huge_ misunderstanding, and he had no doubt that the bastard knew he was telling the truth. _As if I'd help transport opium!!! _Yet, all the man did was smirk with that hated cigarette between his lips before throwing Sano into prison alongside with twenty-one other offenders.

_At least this cell is cleaner than the others_. Or from the amount of housewarming pets occupying the one across from him, that was the impression he got. _Kenshin_ _would tell me to be thankful for small blessings_. That was only if he could convince himself this was a blessing, which Sano has yet to succeed at. Sighing, he heaved himself off the unyielding stone bed to pace on the unyielding stone floor instead. When given this inadequate choice, he suppose he was favor of that rather than a forced inactivity of his limbs_. And I've sat enough for the past twenty hours._

Seven paces across and five paces down, the place was even smaller than the other hole he occupied in Kyoto. This was not the first time he spent time in a prison, and not even his longest residence in one either, but despite both those facts, Sano found himself to be the most restless this time around. He halted his step under the a small patch of late morning sunlight which filtered through the narrow window above his bed, too small for even a small child to fit through, before turning to walk back towards the shadows.

This waiting was like a fine sandpaper slowly rubbing into his soul. And to continue the metaphor, the noise of this place were nails being driven into his burnished spirit. "What the fuck is this!" His shout joined the cacophony of complaints from the din of his fellow prisoners.

The agitation of being trapped in this unreasonable situation was getting to him, and in a sudden outburst of it, Sano wheeled about and sent a left handed punch into the closest wooden beam. There was a soft crack and as splintered wood chips fell, but rather than collapse outwards like proper wooden structures, the bar bent irregularly in its midsection. Enough of the wooden exterior fell away to reveal thr reinforced interior that confined hsi freedom.

_If only my right hand was completely healed!_ Sano turned another corner to walk back towards the light. If Megumi had not told him very specifically that he could not use that hand, his Futae no Kiwami would have easily shattered these meaningless obstructions. Just like his last visit to hotel prison. _Not that that would help me much. With the way my luck is running, they'll just mark me as a wanted fugitive. _

Sano's face darkened. _I wouldn't put it beyond that bastard to place extra incriminations against me either if I got away. Probably something about destroying the place. Destruction of public property. I wouldn't put it past him to tack on extra crimes, period. Just for good measure._

"Shaddup, rooster head. I dun need your racket."

The accented words surprised Sano to a standstill. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to lean against the bars and glare down the hall. He could almost swear on the identity of that voice... _Could it be? _Squinting against the dim corridor, the station was too cheap for more than a single candle for every two cells, he thought he could make out a shock of golden hair. "Hey, broom head, is that you?"

Before the slurred voice could reply, a flash of candlelight dancing across a section of red caught Sano's eye. Now definite of his estimation, a flame of hope flared within him. He wasted no time to continue, "LET ME OUTTA HERE!" _Finally, someone that I know!_

True enough, no more than a second later, Sawagejou Chou appeared from around the corner. The tall blond proceeded down the passageway with an air of arrogance. The katanagari's steps were slow, as if he was at leisure to take all the time in the world just walking down the cell block. It was clear by the indifference in his expression that a bubble of space separating him from the begging prisoners had been created.

Still, Sano had to wonder at how Chou could ignore such racket when he himself was at his wits' ends from the row. The only explanation he could think of was that the broom head did not have to endure it for the past thirty something odd hours, and that perhaps for the newly initiated, the clamor was slightly less than maddening. Considering his own position, it was not a pleasant thought.

At long last Chou came to a standstill before his cell. Even from the dim illumination of the sunless corridors, the street fighter could see that three months hadn't changed the sword lover much. His choice of clothing was still the flashy red outfit with the ruffled shoulder sleeves which marked him as surely as Sanosuke's white Aku robe does. Other aspects were also the same as he recalled, including the two katanas remained strapped across the sword lovers' back in a large X formation. Chou may not be the katanagari of the Juppon Gatana anymore, but from the weapons he still carried, the man was definitely still a lover of swords.

_He looks well. _Sano felt a rush of familiarity when Chou peered at him through a sharp right eye even while his left one remained closed.

"What are you goggling at," the Sano suddenly snapped, the moment of quiet camaraderie broken by his self conscious demand. The responsive widening of a startled eye revealed that even Chou had not been aware of his own rejoining survey. But now that Sano pointed it out, the sword lover was noticing now. Sano inwardly cursed when a slow smirk crept its way across those Chou's lips.

"I recall our roles switching sometime ago," the tall man drawled, taking this chance to taunt him. True enough, the first time they met, it had been Chou who was the one caught in prison, rotting away until he was given an under-the-table offer to leave. _To spill the news on Shishio willingly or spill news after torture._ _After that, it's to serve the government or be threatened by execution again. No real choice there. _Looked at under that light, Chou's situation three months ago was probably a lot worse than his own now, but still it was not an episode Sano felt comfortable to be compared with at the present. Surely this misunderstanding would not carry so far.

But that was something else entirely, a worry pushed to the back bench in the face of this new assault. At the moment, Chou sounded as if he wanted to add more to his insult.

And Sano would rather not hear the rest of this nonsense. In a flash of movement, he jumped to the front of his cell. Bandaged hands became outstretched to grab at the bars as he pulled himself up against the wooden beams, body pressed to the barrier, like he could squeeze out between the gaps.

"Let me out! You fucking know I'm innocent!" There was a wincing motion on the other side as small pieces of timber splintered out beneath his grip. _Good, at least he sees I'm serious. _He also made sure that the red clad man knew he would much rather wring his neck than rectangular bars if he was not released in a speedy manner.

"Hey, rooster brain, calm down." Sano stopped but refused to remove his malevolent glare. Chou shrugged his shoulders and explained. "You're getting out. The Battousai came around and cleared your name." Stepping back now to lean against a wall break between the cells, the katanagari crossed his arms over his chest. His right eye peered back singularly at Sano. "Man, it's good to know people from high places."

Sano would like to point out that Chou did too but he thought better of it. While the other knew Saitou, he knew that if Chou was thrown in jail, Sano could bet good money -and win- that the previous captain of the Shinsengumi would not waste his breath to get his subordinate out of prison. _Anyway, anyone believing that it's fortunate to know _that _man needs to have his head examined._

It took longer for the actual message of the katanagari to sink in. In so many words, the broom head had also announced his freedom.

A sigh escaped Sano's lips and he relaxed his death hold on the innocent wood.

_Kenshin, good ol' Kenshin._ Of course he could rely on the rurouni to get him out, especially considering he was blameless in the first place. Sano maintained -"It's the truth!"- that he had been mislead and the story would remain the same no matter how many times he was questioned.

"You sure landed yourself in a deep one though," the katanagari went on. When Sano returned him a blank stare, he just huffed and continued. "You did more damage than the rest of these guys combined. Five officers sent in with serious injuries; more than one cracked their ribs and there's at least one with his nose broken. It's a miracle they're still releasing you from here without making you pay for something."

"I thought they were trying to steal the tea leaves." Sano thought he sounded lame even to his own ears.

"You're gullible," Chou rejoined smoothly.

Sano felt his shoulders tensing defensively at this new insult. "And you're a broom head!"

"Chicken head!"

"Straw hair!"

"At least I'm not the one in prison!"

Sano had no quick retort for that one. And when he felt his real temper rising, he quickly quashed it back down. Everyone seemed to be saying something about his abilities these days. It was only made worse when he walked himself into embarrassing and dumb situations like this one. Tea leaves. Maybe he was gullible.

He was no longer worked up when he answered. "Yeah? Just get me outta here."

But it did not matter anymore. He concentrated on the fact that he was going free and he could later thank Kenshin for helping him out. But the first order of business would still be to search out the Miburo. He has doubled the reasons to want to kick Saitou's butt now.

Several minutes passed between as the moans of the prison filled the absence of any conversation. Chou had went quiet as well and did not give him an answer. Neither did he move forward to unlock the door. An awkward silence settled between them.

Sano couldn't wait anymore. "Hey," he started hesitantly, wondering why the man remained where he stood, "aren't you gonna open the door?" He stepped retreated from the bars, assuming that's the only reason the taller man was hanging back.

"Sorry, that's not my job. I just came by to say hi since we haven't seen each other for three months and all." Try as he might, Sano just could not see Chou being sincere in his apology no matter how the broom head tried to sound like he was. The prompt refusal shocked him momentarily into speechless. "Well, did what I came to do." The katanagari pushed away from the stone wall to turn his back on Sano. Holding up two fingers in a farewell wave, Chou left him gaping alone in the cell.

By the time Sano snapped out of it, the other had already traveled several cells down the corridor. "Hey! Broom man! Come back here! Damn you, get back here and open the fucking door!" It was in vain though, and his words only escorted the disappearing back into the further reaches of the hall's darkness.

A feeling akin to abandonment washed through him while Chou vanished completely from his view into the shadows. It was a feeling of helplessness, almost like when he witnessed Saitou 'die' before his very eyes during the Shishio affair and his inability to do anything about it. That thought brought the flame of his anger whirling back, and spinning sharply in his place, Sano slammed his left arm against the stone wall that separated his cell from the next. He thought he felt the stone shake beneath his assault, but even if it did, it was resilient enough to remain standing.

The need to escape battled against his desire to avoid trouble. His fist may not be healed, but if Anji could use his Futae no Kiwami from more than just his left hand, it stood to reason that Sano could do something similar. _And hope I don't end up with even more shattered bones. That's the last thing I need, a broken arm on top of a shattered hand. Megumi would grill me over a fire if I went to her for even more treatments._

Yet now that he knew he will be released, the desire to sit around just was not as appealing as it was earlier. There was no reason to stay anymore, especially now that he has 'clearance' to leave. The way Sano saw it, if he broke out now, he would just be leaving sooner rather than later.

A short debate finally gave him the decision to try the move with his forearm. Sano took a deep breath and pulled his right arm across his chest in preparation for a swing. "Futae no Ki- "

"Ahou. Don't make a mess of the penitentiary."

Sano barely stopped himself from smashing his arm metal reinforced bars and nearly dislocated his shoulder in trying. The momentum he had gathered raised difficulties in stopping in mid swing and he had to change the direction quickly into a downward slam instead. The compressed air between his hand and the ground stirred up the dust by his feet.

From out of the corner of his eye, Sano saw a form step out of the far shadows in the same direction Chou had disappeared into. He recognized the spark of ember first. A white gloved hand was revealed afterwards to be holding the stick of nicotine to a hard set mouth.

Just outside his cell, Saitou stood tall and arrogant in all his bedeviling glory. If he judged the wolf's stance right, the bastard must have been hidden there, arms crossed and leaning in that darkness for quite a while already. It was more than likely that he had arrived with Chou then, and merely hung back while Sano reacquainted himself with the katanagari. The fact that he chose only now to reveal himself was probably due to Sano's desire of rendering the holding cell into sawdust, or that he had his fill of watching Sano's frustration. There was no knowing with a cold man like him.

He glowered at Saitou's appearance. "Bastard! Who are you calling ahou?"

Lowering his cigarette hand, Saitou blew a soft gray trail of smoke before answering. "You, of course, ahou ga. Don't make me arrest you again for breaking down the prison."

"Teme! Then let me out! Just open it and I won't need to break it down!"

To his joy, instead of answering like he expected the haughty man to, Saitou reached one hand to put the cigarette back into his mouth and the other to produce a ring full of keys from his belt. With the glowing stick locked firmly in his lips, Saitou sorted through the ring, looking for the right one.

Sano pressed himself up against the bars once more, this time trying to reach for the keys. "Open it! Open the door! Come'n! Get the damned thing open so I can fight you!"

Much too slow for Sano's impatience, he watched as Saitou strolled over to the locked door. Each step took forever, and the street fighter suspected the man was purposefully lengthening the time for each step just to torment him. A lifetime passed with each footfall, and Sano counted a whole century before Saitou was even halfway to the lock. After what seemed like an eternity had rolled by with the waves of time, the smirking bastard was finally standing before Sano's cell door. The fighter watched as the metal key encased itself into the case it was made to enter, and with wretched, squeaky slowness, it turned to return Sano's freedom.

The cell door, now unlocked, easily swung open when its structure was bombarded with a solid kick from his foot; Sano cursed his bad luck when the door missed the uniformed man by less than a hand's breadth. It was only a small set back. It did nothing to delay Sano's cocky strut forward, nor did it deter him from attempting to gift a certain man's cheek with his flying fist. Naturally, his fist missed its target when Saitou blocked it with the back of his forearm, but he sent another one his way anyway. When his second punch resulted in a similar block, he sent in a third.

"Fight me! We have to finish the fight!" Neither his third nor fourth punch landed where they were supposed to, but he had enough anger to keep trying.

-------------

"I don't have time for this."

Blocking the next rapid punch with his right arm, Saitou shifted slightly and grabbed his katana sheath with his left. While other sword totting officers carry the favored western sabres, none were as strong or deadly as the blade by Saitou's waist, which he refrained from drawing. He only intention was to deal with the troublesome rooster, not kill the idiot. So using only the weapon while in its sheathed form, Saitou pushed the hilt diagonally forward in a swing from his waist. The katana rapidly jerked ahead to suddenly jab Sanosuke in the gut.

The move, unanticipated, caught the rooster during the forward momentum of his punch. Both forward forces culminated at the point of Saitou's sword hilt slamming into Sano's soft kidney area and with strength enough to stun, it was adequate to weaken the brunet to a manageable stage. Saitou smirked around his cigarette. It was also proof that the man had yet to learn his defenses.

"Damn you," the ahou muttered as his body and legs staggered back from the blow. Saitou saw that he could still move, but he appeared immobilized enough to not throw another punch for some minutes. It was not the effect he was aiming for, but it was adequate.

With a single step he closed the distance between them. Sano tried to shuffle backwards, but Saitou was confident that his soft blow to the kidney would keep him there for a while. He reached out; one hand grabbed the front of Sano's waist sash and another landed on a white clad shoulder, and with a mighty heave, over his shoulder the rooster went. There was a hard jounce when the brunet landed across his shoulder bone but Saitou barely grunted at the addition of the new weight.

"Put me down, teme!"

Ignoring the clucking from the rooster, Saitou easily carried him out of the cells and up the stairs this way, acting oblivious to the burden on his shoulder. When Sano tried to struggle further, wriggling like a silk worm in its cocoon, Saitou merely bounced him a bit on his shoulder. His grip on the troublemaker's waist was strong, and despite all the insistent worming, there was nothing the idiot could do to dislodge his hold.

"Oroooo..." That would be the Battousai.

Saitou entered the room with the tousled Sano slung over a shoulder. If his supposedly dead appearance surprised his nemesis, Himura hid it well. Perhaps the Battousai never really thought that he parished in the first place. Saitou had learned not to underestimate this man.

"He's all yours, Battousai," Saitou announced before dumping the still recovering Sanosuke into the surprised man's arms. The abruptly added weight proved to be too much for Himura's small stature, and with a flurry of "Ororororo's", both rooster and wanderer fell into a pile on the tiled police station floor.

Standing where he was staring down at them, Saitou took out a new cigarette. He had thrown away the last one shortly before his climb back up to the main quarters.

"Thank you, Saitou," Himura said after he and Sano both picked themselves off the ground. The rooster had one arm draped over the rurouni's shoulder for support, and the redhead held an arm around the fighter's waist in counterbalance. "Sessha sees you are well, de gozaru."

He replied with a derisive snort. From his pocket, he found a match and used it to strike up a flame.

Himura continued readily when no further reply was forthcoming. "We will be going now."

"And don't think our fight is over, ya cheater! Next time, I'll beat you with my Futae no Kiwami! You can damn bet on it!"

Saitou raised his hand in a half wave to the Battousai before he turned to head back to the office himself. He knew that he enraged the rooster more by completely ignoring him, but he had no interest in entertaining the man's wiles today.

"What d'ya mean by that! Come back here! I'll beat you!" He had no doubt that if the Battousai was not been holding to the delinquent, Sano would probably have leapt after him. "Stop there! Saitou! Bastard! Willow head!"

And whether it could get rid of the annoying rooster or not, without pausing in his steps, he answered with a little wave of his gloved hand over shoulder. "Whatever," he added before closing the door to his office behind him. Unknown to them, he did stand for a few seconds behind the closed wooden door. _He'll land in real trouble one day_, he thought. Sounds of an enraged rooster getting dragged away by a very persevering Battousai echoed throughout the police station.

Saitou looked down at the wrinkled sleeve of his uniform where he had blocked Sanosuke's punches from earlier. _But he's learning,_he amended. Five punches and parts of the blue cloth were beginning to fray already. At least the threads were still holding. Tokio was too far away in Kyoto to sew them up again.

**

* * *

**

**Endnotes-**

Kenshin fans would know most of these already, but just to be thorough, I'll cover some things here.

_Juppon_ _Gatana and katanagari -_ Juppon Gatana, literally translating to "ten swords" were the group of elites controlled by Shishio. Chou had the title of katanagari, meaning the "sword hunter".

_Battousai _- "master of sword drawing arts" was used as a title referring to one who mastered _battoujutsu_, or the technique of sword drawing. Kenshin, during his Bakumatsu days, was known as Himura Battousai.

_rurouni _- a word compounded of the verb _ru_ meaning "to wander" and _ronin_, meaning "masterless samurai", but does not actually exist as a word. It is what Kenshin calls himself, and English translations have interpreted it as "wandering samurai".

_sessha, de_ _gozaru _- Many would recognize these as terms Kenshin uses a lot. English versions have translated Kenshin's self address of _sessha_ to "this one" and _de gozaru _as Kenshin adding "that it is" to the end of his phrases. These are part of his humble speech pattern (hence why I added/kept them in), and _de gozaru_ is an ancient form of the verb _desu_ (to be). So instead of using _desu_ at the end of the sentence, Kenshin uses _de gozaru_.

_Tokio _- Takagi Tokio, Saitou's wife. Yes, he does have a wife. Unfortunately, because I'm not quite comfortable with writing her yet, I doubt she will make an appearance in this story.

Also, I apologize for some discrepency between locations. When I planned/wrote this story several years ago, I had been rather confused over the locations of certain people. I was under the impression that Saitou was working in Kyoto for some reason, and hence wrote that he was based there. This is not true. Saitou, in history and I believe in Kenshin as well, had always been in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. However it was true that he doubled as an undercover agent so he did travel around. For the sake of this story... I'll continue as I had written.


	3. Chapter 2

_Author's Notes:_ I am full of doubts over this chapter since it's my first fic and I'm throwing in everyone already. Please R&R to tell me what you guys think? Good or bad, it doesn't matter as long as it gives me some insight as to how to improve the characterization in the upcomming chapters.

_Edit Note_: There may be those who had read this a long time ago, but I am hoping it would be such a long time that you have no memory of how this chapter used to be. It has been a loooong time since I've written RK, so I hope the personalities pan out after all.

**Chapter 2**

"Even when a fiery death awaits, the moth perseveres to reach the central blaze. What is it pertaining to danger that allures so many?"

Kneeled politely on the dark tatami mats that covered his humble abode, Takashima followed the gai-jin's gaze to the white paper lamp settled on the ground between them.

The daytime sun shining through the paper shutters provided more than enough light to illuminate their quiet conversation, but his guest insisted that they were to have an addition of a lamp. Under a forceful demand given through soft polite words, Takashima brought a small lamp out to be placed between them. Its thin paper veil provided a muted glow in the dim chamber and its ambient light fought with the filtered sun to cast artistic patterns of flickering shadows across the floor. Takashima thought it served no purpose but to create even more flitting phantoms for the eyes.

There was a movement on the mats directly across from him. His guest was reaching into his jacket and his hand emerged holding a small bamboo container. It was no longer than the length of his hand, with one end sharpened liked those for collecting water and with both ends capped. The gai-jin gave the tube a little shake and soon after, opened the sharpened end. Takashima watched with subdued curiosity as a gray moth flew out. It circled the air twice before it began to convene on the paper lamp.

Takashima bowed himself in half, his forehead nearly touching the soft mats in front of him in utmost respect. New pain awakened by his posture ran a deep ache down his spine, reminding him of the lifetime of Hell he had already spent living on Earth.

He felt old. For a fact, he knew he was still acceptably young with a face that a beholder may still claim "matured" and not "aged". Even his hair continued to shine brightly black with its three decades of growth. But Takashima felt as old as his grandfather had been when the man passed away, twice his current age and likely in a lot less pain_. _

This is a weakness, he thought harshly as he straightened back to a sitting position. _I must overcome it._

When he looked up, he found demonic blue eyes staring at him. He met them, eye for eye, stare for stare, for all of a few heartbeats before he turned away. In that moment, he had subtly searched them but there was no hint of such a weakness which mirrored his own_. I must overcome it._

But if Takashima was still relatively young, then foreigner was a man in his prime. He heard it was said that the other was at least a decade his senior, but he saw that the creases which lined both of their faces were of the same amount. Where the crows' feet marking the corners of Takashima's eyes gave him an image of false antiquity, they looked agreeable on the gai-jin's features. If he was truthful to himself, he would admit that he was envious of that ability.

Takashima bowed again in respect. There would be another time for this.

"I do not know, Licho-sama." Despite how it was adjusted for the Japanese tongue, the name still rolled off his lips strangely.

Takashima saw no meaning to the words, just two syllables brought together. The foreigner had given him this name to address, explaining that his real name was as exotic in origins as himself. It would cause difficulties with their pronunciation system, he had claimed. Takashima was satisfied with the explanation at the time of meeting, and agreed that they lacked the sounds suitable for the tricky curling of tongue that Licho's countrymen required for their alien names, but ever since then he had often wondered if this was not merely another facet of the gai-jin's arrogance.

"What does it matter," the foreign man continued in masterful Japanese. There was a slippery accent to his speech, but it did not impede upon the understanding. Licho wore a disarming smile as he gazed at him.

_A viper's smile before the strike that kills_. Takashima returned a humble curve of his own.

He picked up the vial of sake warming by the lamp and offered to pour more, but the older man held out a hand to cover his cup. "No, no more, thank you." Bowing his head, Takashima left the sake alone and waited.

His guest was apparently satisfied to just watch the moth for the moment, and not one to dispute, Takashima allowed him to gather thoughts in this silence.

The inspiration of the Licho's rhetorical words fluttered against the insulating paper of the lamp, hopelessly battering its soft scaled wings in an attempt to reach the soft glimmer flame held within the thin cage. Every time the gray creature went against the white, a smudge of silver shimmer was left behind where the its flapping wings touched. It was slowly destroying itself before Takashima's eyes.

"Who lead the investigation?" Finally, they were getting to the purpose of Licho's visit.

Takashima had expected this question forthcoming. Now he was able to apply the answers he spent a small fortune in bribes to gain on such short notice. "The man responsible is named Fujita Gorou, Licho-sama. He is an inspector newly transferred to the Tokyo police division from the Kyoto division."

"Was he the sole leading man?"

"He was. He was responsible for conducting the whole raid."

"Hn." Licho nodded and held his cup out, which Takashima dutifully refilled it with more sake.

At that moment, Licho's hand reached out and removed the paper lantern that protected the moth for so long.

Unleashed upon the object of its desire, the moth dashed forward towards the warmth of the flames. The truth of the situation must have reached it too late, and the true danger it was barred from leapt back at it. Its wings were the first to catch on fire, followed by its body and head in a quick burst of orange. The creature fell while its burning wings flailed uselessly until it tumbled to the mats as nothing more but a speck of ash.

Takashima watched the foreigner's adept gaze on the suffering creature. _This man is a dangerous; for a gai-jin with no fighting blood in him, he lusts for blood just as much as the samurais did at the end of the Edo era.  
_  
"Let there be no barriers for those who wish to embrace danger on their own free will."

Bowed in half once more, Takashima replied softly, "Yes, Licho-sama."

He waited until the other man got up and padded out of the room in his socked feet before he straightened again. And there, across from him where the gai-jin had kneeled moments before, a small white bag with strings locking it shut was left behind for him, his payment in a fine white powder. Displeasing the gai-jin would be equal to displeasing a tiger, but work with him, and the results will be desirable.

-------------

"I can't believe I was stupid enough to think that Saitou was dead, that bastard!" Sanosuke shouted, walking alongside Kenshin. He had no idea where he was going, but he was on the impression that Kenshin was heading back to the Kamiya Kasshin dojo, and after spending two days in prison, Sano was ready to mooch some proper food off there as well.

Yet the whole way from the police station to where they were now a block away from the dojo, his ranting hadn't lessened. In fact, with each further step from that hell hole, Sano's strength regained faster and he laid into his rant with that much more fervor. "This whole time! Come on, Kenshin, tell me you're angry too! Three months, and that damned bastard hadn't even thought to send word that he was still alive!"

"Sessha is used to people coming back from the dead, de gozaru."

Sano paused in mid step and gave Kenshin a suffering look. "So you will be fine if Shishio comes back tomorrow?"

"That was not what sessha meant," Kenshin deadpanned. When Kenshin resumed their walk, Sano followed glumly. "But in the Bakumatsu, there were often times when people we thought had perished would have survived and return. If we did not see the body for our own eyes, there would still be a chance that they were alive."

"Yeah, that doesn't make Saitou any less a bastard for not informing us somehow."

"Sano," Kenshin agreed, but tolerating and with an undertone of warning. When the street fighter looked around, he realized that they were approaching the dojo's territory. They weren't in sight of the small building yet, but it was literally just around the corner ahead.

To Kenshin's credit, he hadn't once said a single berating word to Sano during this whole walk back from the police station. Nothing about his stupidity nor that of his unplanned stay at government facilities, or even requiring the rurouni's help in getting him out of said facility. _Kenshin's_ _sometimes more supportive than I really have right to_. In appreciation, Sano decided he could stop ranting for a whileHe crossed his arms behind his head and walked in companionable silence with the rurouni. _I was running out of things to say about that slant-eyed bastard and his opium shipment anyway._

Turning around the corner brought the Kamiya dojo in sight, and along with it, the visage of Kaoru standing by the front door. Today, like every other day working day, she was dressed in her rough training clothing with her long dark hair tied back into a ponytail. Sunlight reflected brightly off the white cotton, and where its beams weaved through her hair, purple highlights shone. Kaoru apparently came directly out of training for the worn shinai was still held propped against her shoulder in her right hand.

As soon as she saw them, she raised her free hand up in a wave. "Kenshin!" Her sharp, clear voice traveled down the length of the street towards them.

Sano raised his right hand in response. "Hey."

"Kaoru-dono," Kenshin replied.

Giving Sanosuke a glare which he understood to be, _What_ _are you doing here?_ she went right on to addressing the rurouni. "Where have you been? Yahiko said you left right after a policeman came." Kaoru leveled a suspicious glare his way. "Did something happen?"

"It was nothing, de gozaru. It was just that Sano-"

Before Kenshin could speak any further, Sano quickly clamped both hands over the redhead's mouth and took over from there. "-Met up with an old friend of ours and I wanted the ol' blue-suit to help me deliver the message to Kenshin_." It's not completely a lie... except maybe the friend part. Maybe it was more like an acquaintance than a friend, if I even want to call him that._ Either way, he backed it up with a full display of his immaculate white teeth.

Kenshin did a series of muffled "Oro"'s beneath his hand but didn't appear as if he was going to argue. So when Sano was ensured that the redhead wouldn't burst his bubble, he released the rurouni again. To his imminent relief, Kenshin supported him by adding, "That was what happened, Kaoru-dono."

Kaoru's eyes narrowed. It was very obvious that she found their story downright suspicious, but apparently finding no visible flaw, she allowed them to go with an unsatisfied grumble. "Right..." She hefted the shinai on her shoulder a bit and turned back to the direction of the dojo. "Let's get inside then. And Kenshin? Could you go pick up some fresh tofu from the market later? We only have enough left for lunch."

Beside him, Kenshin gave him a comforting smile and followed the young kenjutsu girl in. "Sessha will do that, de gozaru."

No longer under their scrutiny, Sano released his pent up breath and followed them in as well. Beggars have no right to be choosers, but he couldn't help but hope that it would be Kenshin who would be cooking lunch today, or even Megumi bringing over a platter of nigiri. After prison, it would be torture if he had to suffer the raccoon's massacre of food.

The two of them went directly through the front yard towards the dojo, and Sano followed slowly behind. Unsurprisingly, the dojo's two frequent visitors were also here, Ayame-chan and Susume-chan, and were seated silently at the doorway. They had their backs to their approach and seemed to be watching the interior very attentively.

It was Kenshin who greeted the two girls first. "Hello Ayame-chan, Susume-chan." From the way Kenshin called them, Sano would guess they haven't been here for long.

"Ken nii-chan!"

The girls rushed at the rurouni like a small tide and washed him up in their waves. Ayame reached up to take Kenshin's hand in her small ones while Susume hopped up and down in the way only girls in their innocent youth could. Together with one voice, the two eagerly chimed, "Ken nii-chan, play with us! Play with us!"

Sano easily sidestepped the smothered rurouni to peak into the dojo himself. On his way, he grabbed a nigiri off the wooden tray sitting on the porch, prepared by the girls most likely, and took a bite into the sticky repast.

The interior of the dojo looked as if it was functioning normally. Yahiko, the Kamiya Kasshin style's only student, looked as if he was working vigorously with his shinai. Sano watched as the weapon swung mercilessly down into the empty air and the action cycled with each forward step. Yahiko was wearing the traditional white gi for kenjutsu training too, the same outfit that Kaoru was wearing outside. They claimed it was something about durability and loose for movement, but if that was all, Sano would have advertised his own loose robe.

When Yahiko looked as if he was finished his set, Sano finally spoke up. "Yo, Yahiko, those strokes are looking good."

Yahiko paused in mid step. "Yeah," he said gruffly. Picking up his weapon and casually jamming it under his belt sash, he swiped off the sheen of sweat dotting his forehead with his sleeve. There were sounds coming from the front porch now, mainly with two high pitched peals of laughter being the loudest.

"Looks like Kenshin's having fun again." Sano glanced over his shoulder to see the rurouni being dragged in circles with the two girls. Kenshin was looking a little dizzy again, but he didn't look as if he minded.

"They came here looking for him." Satisfied with his weapon placement and his brow cleaned, Yahiko turned and leveled a gaze on Sano. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Sano nabbed his second nigiri and waved it before the samurai boy. "Free food, of course. Free food."

"Hey! Ayame-chan and Susume-chan made those for us!"

Uncaring, he took a big bite out of the rice ball. "D'ere 's'nough." He swallowed the mouthful. "You could share."

"Sano! If you touch that nigiri..."

He glanced over Yahiko, and judging there was no real threat, he reached for the next in the pile. The disappearing shadows of the outdoor environment suggested that it was nearly noon. Kaoru or Kenshin would start the midday meal soon. Judging from how the rurouni was kept busy by the two girls... Sano reached for another two more.

"OW!" And promptly felt the crack of wooden staff smash into the crown of his head. Nigiri forgotten, Sano turned to glare at the fuming kid who sneaked up behind him. "What'ya do that for?!"

Yahiko stood there with his shinai still held out in both hands. "Serves you right for stealing our food!"

"I wasn't stealing anything! I was just hungry!" Sano glared back sourly.

Huffing, the younger man placed his practice sword away and sat down on the porch. Sano did likewise, and the platter of rice balls was settled between them. The two girls were still playing with Kenshin in what appeared to be a new game that had the rurouni carrying bales of rice. This would mean Jo-chan would be cooking, and Sano reflexively tried to fill his stomach before the poison could go in. However, at the moment, Kaoru looked satisfy to just be standing under the shade of the roof and watching the rurouni work.

"Hey, Sano." The ex-gangster glanced over to the boy and he instantly knew there was something in the other's expression he didn't like. It wasn't exactly a disarming smile, it didn't look malicious nor laden with hidden intent, but there was just something Sano couldn't put his fist on. "I would've thought they feed you in jail."

Oh. Now he knew why he didn't like it. Yahiko must have overheard whatever message was delivered to Kenshin.

The crickets started suddenly chirping around them, and they were chirping damned loudly too. The only sound that matched the bugs was the rustle of tree leaves in the gentle wind.

Glancing across the dojo grounds showed a variety of emotions flitting across each person's face. Kenshin was being his open self, looking at him with wide blue eyes that showed his curiosity towards Sano's response. Kenshin showed he was supportive too, but since he did not appear overly surprised, one could likely surmise he knew of this beforehand. Yahiko was grinning beside him, nigiri in one hand and the other pushed back against the porch grounds. He looked curious too, and while there was no vicious grin, his dark eyes were sparkling with mischief. Kaoru... Jou-chan's mouth was opened enough for those chirping crickets to fly right in.

"You were in jail!" Kaoru clamped her mouth shut only long enough to be opened again. Peals of laughter came forth as she somehow found his plight highly amusing. But now in afterthought, Sano suppose it was somewhat funny. Finally catching some air, she asked between breaths, "What did you do?"

Sanosuke gave a slight embarrassed chuckle. "Well, you see..." After shooting Yahiko a glare to which the young boy grinned back at, Sanosuke ran a hand through the back locks of his brown hair and sheepishly explained.

* * *

**Endnotes-**

_tatami_ - These are woven straw mats used in Japanese flooring. Generally the edges are bordered by cloth although some uses brocade. These mats come in the uniform size of 35.5 x 71 inches (90 x 180 cm) and Japanese refer to their room size in terms of number of mats.

_gai-jin_ - It is what Japanese use to refer to "foreigner". It's generally not a very flattering term.

_-dono_ - A Japanese honorific that's usually used in an aristocratic sense, roughly meaning "lady". Kenshin uses it on Kaoru as part of his humble speech pattern.

_kenjutsu_ - The Japanese martial arts that specializes in sword usage.

_nigiri_ - It is a form of sushi generally made as a ball of rice bound by _nori_ (seaweed) and garnished with seasame seeds. It could be made either plain or with filling inside. However, nowadays, _nigiri-zushi_ often just refers to the type of sushi we see most often in Japanese restaurants, a rice of ball with something on top.

_nii-chan_ – An informal, condensed way of saying "bigger brother", where the normal word should be _oniisan_.

_shinai_ - A training weapon used in kendo. It is usually made with strips of bamboo bound together

_gi_ - The rough cotton outfit martial artists wear.

_Jou-chan_ - A slang form of _ojousan_, used by Sanosuke to refer to Kaoru. It is used often as an address for young ladies, although literally it translates to "someone else's daughter".


	4. Chapter 3

_Author's Notes:_ Originally this and the next chapter used to be one chapter... however, in my rewriting of the chapter, this section ended up much longer than I anticipated. So I decided to cut it in uneven halves and let them become two chapters instead. This means that the next chapter will be a bit on the short end, but then again, depending on how it's rewritten, it might very well be the same length. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter... and, same old, same old. Please read and review! I'd like to know what readers are thinking and how to improve this story.

**Chapter 3**

It was a long night for the end of a long day. By reading the natural clock of the heavens, judged by the slight shifts of diamond dust thrown over a deep blue background, Saitou knew it was nearly eleven. The Tokyo streets leading away from its bustling center were already empty on this uneventful night; the dark alleys were completely deserted. This was nearing the hour where the line between early and late blurred, and when most of the city's respectible citizens would find themselves a place to stay indoors.

The silver beams of a waning moon shining out between an inconstant cloud cover was the only illumination through these unlit roadways, and by its light, Saitou made his way past a street of traders closed for the night. He knew there would still be a soba stand open ahead, just around the bend of the baker's shop and cutting through a short alley. He passed by it often enough these last few days while going home to his temporary lodgings.

Work had dragged throughout the day and far enough into the evening such that he missed his dinner. The investigation on the opium ship Ragnarok was occupying much more of his precious time than previously anticipated. Even minus the one Battousai had taken away that morning, their jail cells were still full of twenty-one others for which the government was taking much too long to deal with. They were different in all manner of shape and background, but alike in the fact that they either didn't know anything or stubbornly refused to admit something. Whoever had chosen these men had planned for this, that much Saitou had to admire. But it didn't make it any less annoying when each half hour interrogation disclosed nothing more than the names of their prisoners. When they disclosed that at all.

_They should've directly moved on to harsher methods._ If this assignment was fully his to begin with, Saitou would have dealt with the mess from a completely different angle, but the government never showed their interest in the matter. To them, this was just another shipment of many, and they were unconcerned of leaving the conspirators free for another attempt. He doubted they would consider taking him off his main assignment to give him the go ahead on this issue.

He passed by the bakery with an exasperated sigh. Even at this late hour, the aroma of baked items infused into the location mingled with the smoke of his cigarette. It reminded him enough of his hunger that he quickened his step.

Saitou could see where the government was lacking resources to pursue a fuller investigation than these simple raids, but that was why they should have employed operatives like him to begin with. However, given that his hands are already tied with the underground slave dealing case, he suppose they would have to find some other operative. Undeniably the government teamed with enough capable men after the end of the Bakumatsu.

Which brought to fore his other business here in Tokyo. It was by sheer luck that his current assignment transferred him as an undercover here to the very station closest to Battousai's lodgings. Perhaps the chance conclude what had begun in the Bakumatsu would arrive sooner than he had foreseen.

He approached the isolated alley that was the shortcut through some residential areas to the soba shop. The moon offered minimal light to reveal the barest of his surrounding environment in shades of black and gray. A flash of dark shadow ran across his vision as a tiny mouse scurried out from beneath a pile of rubble and darted across the deserted grounds, probably in search of food like he was. Excess wooden beams meant to be the skeleton of some forgotten building lay unused against the dirt smudged walls, the height of some of them stood higher than the very walls themselves.

It was a dismal locale he normally paid little attention to, but today, he pulled himself to a leisured stop by the neck of the alleyway. The way he placed a hand over the hilt of his sword was performed as a casual action, like a man reclining his arm on a familiar armrest. Saitou's other hand raised up to relieve the weight of the nicotine stick from his lips.

Smoke exhaled from his lungs in a noiseless sigh. A fresh breath of night air was a good remedy for clearing a tired mind and he took several while waiting at the mouth of the alley.

Before he was required to speak out, the first movement came somewhere ahead of him. It was just a shift in the shadows behind the pile of unwanted timber, the presence of a blackness that was a gradient darker than the rest of the surrounding shade. A scuffle, too loud to be made by the scavenger mouse, flowed out from the other end of the short corridor.

It would appear that the pathway ahead was occupied by several rats.

When it became obvious that this was as far as the ambush would go, one by one the creatures scurried away from their spots of hiding. The limited space of the alley gradually filled up with four dark beings. The light of the weak moon revealed them only as spectres dressed in black, camouflaging outfits and did little to reveal the faces hidden by protective shadows. Still, there was more than enough light to reveal the gleam of deadly steel held in seemingly invisible hands.

The loud shuffle of footfalls from behind alerted him of the two who stepped out to flank him. It would appear that he had missed those two. They were proving to be too organized to be a normal gang of larceners, and lacked the stealth simple thieves would possess. It was quite clearly then, by method of elimination, that they came here with a purpose: him.

"You're Fujita Gorou?" One of them, presumably the leader, spoke in a deep voice that reverberated down the length of dark alley.

Saitou allowed the cigarette to slip between his fingers and drop unceremoniously to the ground. From habit, he crushed out the ember tip with the heel of his boot. Without that soft ambient glow and without a drawn blade to reflect heaven's light, he was now standing in the darkness as much as they were.

"Hai, Fujita Gorou is myself. How may I help you gentlemen?" He knew they wouldn't be able to see it when he smiled in his friendly policeman manner, but he did so anyway.

A snicker sounded from behind him to his right as the assumed leader spoke again. "You're the bastard who lead the raid on Ragnarok's goods?"

Ah, so that incident was what this attack was about. He had made such an amount of enemies that placing them all would have been impossible; it was decidedly nice that they deemed to inform him. A glint of interest shone in his smile at the prospect of finding a new lead for the case.

Saitou replied with a friendly query of his own, "Are you gentlemen related to that incident?"

"Answer the question, damn you!"

"Who hired you?"

"You're in no position to raise questions!"

Again, he didn't answer but chuckled in dry amusement.

"Bastard, you think this is funny?!"

"What're we waiting for?" A voice in the dark asked. This lead to another joining in, "He's Fujita Gorou, ain't he?"

They were getting restless now. Movement in the shadows suggested the back ranks were shifting in agitation. Sensing this, their leader took a bold step forward and raised his blade while the gleam of silver behind him indicated the others were likewise prepared. They were stupid to have drawn their weapons so prematurely in this constricted surroundings, it severely restricted their movements. At least they had successfully sandwiched him between their two factions. It wouldn't give them any advantage here, but under normal circumstances, it would have been a good tactic.

Saitou reached into his pocket in search of another cigarette. After rummaging around, a new stick was pulled out between gloved fingers and placed it between his lips. He fixed the group before him with a bored glare. "You're wasting my time if you're not going to answer my questions."

That made the decision for them. Unable to stand his audacity, or what they probably interpreted as insolence, the leader responded with another bold step forward. The man was nearly halfway across the alley now, and the moon peaked out from behind a cloud covering long enough to reveal a sharp nose in. "Takashima-san had instructed us to send Fujita Gorou to the Buddha... We wanted to verify your blame first, but you've sealed your own fate!"

Now they were getting somewhere. That one little exchange revealed more information that his whole day's efforts had. The fool was overconfident, and presently Saitou received a cornerstone for the police force to start their inquests on. Even without the name list of their penitentiary's new guests on hand, he knew that none of them possessed the name of Takashima.

The threat on his life by worthless rodents was inconsequential.

"This turned out to be a fortunate meeting. You've saved me a lot of footwork for finding the real dealer's name." He removed the stick of white from his lips and returned it to his pocket to save for later. "Is there anything else you want to disclose?"

"Kill!"

The one word command was shouted loudly by the leader, and like the samurai of the Bakumatsu, the ones behind him all charged fearlessly headlong towards him. The gleaming katana in his hand was obviously thought nothing of; the symbol of such a blade marking him as an elite swordsman and a chosen member of the sword bearing police brushed aside as mere insignificance.

Even as the four ahead charged towards him, the two positioned behind kept their distance. It was apparent that they merely served the role of keeping him from escaping and held no real position in this attack. It was just as well. He reckoned he could deal with the observing two later, maybe even drag them back for questioning in the aftermath, but for now, the four ahead were closing in.

Saitou's amiable smile dropped to a predatory leer. Perhaps they shouldn't have so easily dismissed his sword.

These men knew the patron they sweat for headed the opium ring, and regardless, they found him worthy of following. They were willing to sell their skill with a sword to kill a policeman knowing no more than his name. Against men like these, the captain of the Shinsengumi third division found no redemption in mercy.

At present the moon had disappeared once more between a dark blanket and left only the stars to guide them. In this newfound darkness, Saitou made out that they were trying to use the darkness to their advantage. The maneuver was to surround him while he was unaware, but the current situation was so absurd that he could barely hold back his smirk. The narrow alley forced the approaching men to advance in single file while their swords remained held high and were more deadly to themselves than him. This temporary lack of light, while advantageous to their stealth, were just as much a hindrance to their movement where any sudden change would skewer them on their own blades. They had no choice but to slow down.

Unhurried and with all the time it took for his targets to file out of the alley, Saitou got into his Gatotsu stance. He exchanged his grip on the katana from the right hand to the left and held it up to his shoulder level parallel to the ground. Using his free hand, he directed it along the length of the blade until his right fingers stretched over the tip of the sword for the duo purpose of directing and balance. His right leg stepped forward and his left leg shifted back, both knees similarly bent to a near ninety degrees. In that stance he stood, and waited.

When the four attackers came upon him, none but the leading man truly understood the justice that fell upon them. The first man arrived with his katana slashing diagonally downwards, a powerful strike that drew strength from both arms in a sturdy two handed grip. Yet Saitou, lithe as the wolves he was known to be part of, deftly swayed his body a slight bit to the right and the man missed completely. Things came to a reverse when it was Saitou's turn. As soon as the onslaught missed, Saitou launched his own counterattack at a pointblank range. The Gatotsu Ishiki shot forward, a horizontal thrust supported by Saitou's entire body's strength as his left hand drove the length of the blade through three and a half abdomens.

"Let me tell you, rats were never meant to defeat a wolf," he whispered in the face of the shocked leader. A final twist of his sword cut through flesh, bone, and skin alike, and disemboweled all four of his enemies at once.

The dam of solid steel was removed when he slashed his blade through the wall of human tissue. In an arc, blood pumped by dying hearts flooded outwards to splatter across his uniform and face, covering them with droplets of burning crimson. The four bodies dropped like rag dolls across one another. They were still alive but their lives were quickly draining from them.

This left his katana encased in a fluid red sheath all the way to the hilt. Taking out a white square of cloth from his back pocket, he wiped it down indifferently before discarding the square over the bodies. By the time the square landed, the last of their gurgled breathing had hitched to an end.

There was nothing more he could do about these four, Saitou slowly turned, but there were still two alive and healthy rats left.

The two men who had stood guard against his escape were presently trying to escape themselves. Even if the lack of light had robbed them of the details, they must have still witnessed the death of those four. The moon chose that moment to hide behind a shelter of drifting clouds, shrouding her glory as if the night was too bloody for her to witness.

In this sudden darkness, Saitou launched himself forward. He had repositioned himself into the Gatotsu stance during the retreat of the two spineless rats, and the sudden dimming of the moon acted as the signal for his attack. While these men were cowards, they may still be useful in the investigation such that Saitou aimed only for shoulder of the slower one; cowards are generally more talkative.

The first one screamed when his blade bit in, but apparently he had underestimated the cornered ferocity of the vermin. In a last gambit to get free, the impaled one drew his own sword and made a wild swing towards him. He parried the amateur's blow, and with a wide practiced slash across his front, dispatched him before more swings were forthcoming. That left only one other alive left to be questioned.

Regretfully, the shriek drew more attention than what Saitou desired.

Several lightless buildings began regaining their sparks as curious spectators tried to make out the situation. "What's going on?" Someone shouted by the edge of the residential district. People were getting involved now, and it would only be a matter of time before the rat would disappear amongst this camouflage.

He glanced up to catch the the final one newly unfreezing to run back towards the baker's corner. The attack to his companion must have frozen him, a fortunate event that allowed the gap between them to remain moderate.

Up ahead, a flickering flame from a candle indicated that the bread master up as well, and by its traveling shadow, suggested the man was going to investigate.

If he stalled any longer, citizens would become involved. That was the deciding factor.

Saitou positioned himself and considered the distance between him and the fleeing man. It was substantial, but a boosted thrust should be able to cover it in two bounds. It would be better than any alternatives, including that of throwing his weapon.

These men sided with the opium traders who achieved riches by climbing the bodies of the unfortunate below. This man was also a coward who fled when his fellow fighter required his aid. Just one of those reasons was enough to warrant his special brand of justice, and this time he was no longer at leisure to drag things on. "Die with the rest of the pack."

The moon revealed herself when his Gatotsu Ishiki impaled the running man through his back, catching his opponent in mid step just before he passed the front of the shop's threshold. The silver of the moonlight mingled with pale candlelight as the shop door opened.

Saitou turned to face the shocked shop owner. "Just the police doing their duties, sir."

And it would seem that he wouldn't be getting that soba after all.

-------------

A half hour later, hidden within the forgotten shadows beneath a withering sakura tree, a cloaked man watched as the alleyway filled with policemen like ants all over carrion. They milled about the six corpses with an eagerness that was revolting pertaining to the circumstances. His arrival to the scene was prompt, at only a few minutes past eleven, but already the location of the fight was congested with too many people for him to inspect the bodies himself. Watching only for a few minutes more allowed him to learn all he was required to of the matter. He gathered his cloak about himself and left, disappearing just as silently and unnoticed as he had appeared.

**

* * *

Endnotes-**

Not much here this time. Just clarifying a word or two just in case people aren't familiar with the language.

_Gatotsu_ _Ishiki –_ Saitou's Gatotsu (Fang Thrust), the first stance. In the series, Saitou demonstrated four stances for his Gatotsu, Ishiki, Nishiki, Sanshiki, and the Zeroshiki, his first, second, third, and zero stances.

_sakura_ – cherry tree.


	5. Chapter 4

_Author's Notes_: As expected, this chapter was shorter, but not as expected, I took longer than I thought I would with it. It was fun though, especially writing the latter half.

But a few housekeeping things first. While writing this chapter, several things about my writing was brought to my attention, first being the accuracy of Saitou's position. He was not, as I was led to believe by manga translations, a lieutenant. In fact, the position of lieutenant did not even exist in the ranks of the police department. I have gone through my previous chapters to change it to (assistant) inspector, and I believe I will be consistent from now on. Another change that I went back to correct would be Kenshin's use of 'sessha'. Since that is just as important as his 'de gozaru', another fact which slipped my mind, they have also been added into the previous chapters. Finally, I have added an endnote to all my chapters to explain small things within the chapters, like unfamiliar Japanese terms, historical events, or other small things that needs to have attention drawn to them. I hope that helps make the story clearer in some things, especially with what I have planned for upcoming chapters.

Those being said, please enjoy chapter 4!

**Chapter 4**

His hand shook. Hot tea sloshed over the cup's rim, spilling onto his thumb where it was pressed against the blue flower inked into the smooth surface. Takashima hastily placed the drink down and wrapped both hands around the item instead. Warmth radiated through his fingers, but there was little it could do to devour the chill in his bones.

He was tired, weary in both mind and body. He felt old too. Aches racked his body fooled his mind into believing he was older than his years.

One thing, there was one item of the devil that could rejuvenate him; a temporary poison which could chase away these pains to give the rewarding illusion of returned youth, the same poison which leeched his real youth prematurely. And he stared at it, with both longing and hatred at the same time. The small white pouch the gai-jin left on his last visit lounged on the floor before him in all the tempting qualities of the finest geisha. He could feel it wrap its seductive arms around his desires, and he crushed the shadows out as a form of weakness. Instead, he settled for the physical comfort in his cup of genmaicha.

Takashima held the container carefully between his hands to prevent any more spillage. Even as he sipped from the calming brew, he cursed himself for his frailty. He didn't need the substance, and he required his wits for the meeting he had arranged. It would take place any moment now and it wasn't something he could afford to float in the clouds throughout. _Later_, he promised with a last glance to the pouch. _Afterwards._ _I have the night to myself._

The same lamp that had burned in the gai-jin's presence burned again now, renewed in strength and providing the dark room's only illumination. _It's_ _creamy tint is pleasing_, Takashima decided, _very lovely to tired eyes._ It went well with his wheat colored room, bare for meditation except for the twin set of samurai swords set into the wall before him, opposite to the doors, in their revered place.

The sigh he heaved sounded pained even to his ears and he closed his fatigued eyes, wishing momentarily that he had never involved himself in this. The moment passed quickly, however, and he eradicated his mind of such pathetic thoughts. _While I am subject to him, Licho is only one man._ _I'm still the head of this organization; I still grasp the strings of this web. _Normally that image was enough to satisfy him, but today, he simply wished he could simply.

_There are benefits._ His treacherous mind had switched tactics. _The gai-jin pays well. It is good business to work with a man who could afford to pay for his services. And his rewards come in more forms than one._ Takashima's eyes wandered towards the white pouch, but he steeled his resolve before his gaze could stray too far.

_Later,_ he promised, ordered.

Disliking where his thoughts were going, he focused them on a new path. _Where is he?_ _He is scheduled to arrive any minute now, but he is too slow for an informant. How long does it take-_

His thoughts were disrupted by a raspy sound on his door. It took a moment for him to register that the trembling on the thin sliding surface was in fact a knock. This would be his informant then, proceeding directly through without announcement as he had ordered his servants to do.

_Finally._ Out loud, Takashima ordered, "Report."

"Takashima-san," the other addressed. If he was bothered by the lack of invitation into the room, or even the lack of knowledge of whether Takashima was truly listening or not, he did not reveal it in his voice. "All six of them are dead, annihilated in battle."

"Hm." Casualties were acceptable, although admittedly, it was somewhat on the high end in this exchange. Yet, if they got the job done, that was all that mattered. Lower tier fighters were expendable to ensure a smooth running organization. "Were they successful in their tasks?"

There was enough hesitation from the other end that Takashima considered getting up to face his underling, however, before he could leave the tatami, he checked himself. There was no need to conduct this meeting any more direct than through the wall of the shouji. His voice came out deep and strong enough to intimidate and if required, he will repeat his words again to mandate the other to answer.

But the secondary question proved unnecessary.

"No, the policeman was not listed amongst the dead. He would have appear to have escaped unscathed." There was a significant pause, followed by the announcement, "The mission was a failure."

Now Takashima found reason to frown. Sacrifices weren't an uncommon thing to occur, all great organizations were built on the backbone of death, but to have perished without accomplishing their task was a disgrace. Seppuku would have been more fitting but it was too late, one could hardly drag dead men back to life so they may honorably kill themselves again.

He raised his hand to lightly massage the bridge of his nose as he pondered the next step. Obviously, his spies had underestimated the strength of one Fujita Gorou, and immensely in that respect. _He is an inspector newly transferred from Kyoto. A plain policeman, average skills; nothing worthy of noting,_ they had reported to him. When was the last time someone with 'nothing worthy of noting' could kill six of their fighters? _Annihilates assassins_ was the newest term used.

Takashima bit back his unreasonable temper and bid for control, waited until his soul calmed to a still pool. Upon its surface, he reflected upon their situation. Subtlety was inconsequential when they had already revealed their intentions, and when subtlety no longer played a role, there were many more options to be considered.

A light sound of movement alerted him to the other man still waiting outside, but he let him wait.

What Takashima required was a scheme, a masterful design that held no escape for its prey. When that is in place, he would then need a tool to rid them of the man once and for all. He pondered this as he stared down into the depths of his cup, and when that offered nothing, he soothed his eyes on the pale glow of the lamp.

Subtlety was no longer an issue. The police were in the light and he was in the darkness. Subtlety was _no longer an issue._

In the soft light of that flickering fire, a strategy illumined itself.

-----

"Six men! You had unnecessarily put six bodies in our morgue!"

Saitou pressed his mouth to a thin line. He knew how to count and yes, he knew that he had thrown a total of six bodies in there. It just happened that they were six spineless rats who he considered beneath the standard of men for their actions if not cowardice alone probably didn't factor into things. Then there was little problem that they were trying to kill him. But despite those hard facts, what he thought and the image he kept up were decidedly two very different things.

And Inspector Mashiro was not interested in the thoughts of the Mibu wolf. So as Fujita Gorou, Saitou bowed his body in half and pasted a polite smile to his face. "I'm very sorry for what happened," he apologized with all sincerity to his direct superior, "I will make sure it won't happen again."

"Of course it won't!"

Saitou glanced up, and seeing that those beady black eyes were still glaring holes into him under those bushy eyebrows, he lowered his gaze again. The sight of thick jowls and cropped mustache scrunching together in an unsightly scowl was something he rather not stared at.

"Let me tell you what your situation is, Fujita keibu_-ho_!" The way Mashiro pronounced the official title of _assistant _inspector was comparable to how some Ishin Shishi used to call the Miburo. In Saitou's opinion, it was quite an accomplishment for the inspector. "You're here in Tokyo, my turf. I don't care if you came highly recommended by Keishi Torigawa of Kyoto or that you got special status from our keishi here. I don't even care if you're related to him, you could be related for the keishi-sokan for all that matters, but you're on my grounds, my command, under my rule."

Saitou didn't bother pointing out that Mashiro Kuromatsu was just as new as himself to the Tokyo district, arrived just one month before him. There was something about being involved in a scandal in the Osaka headquarters and being sent to Tokyo to get the keibu out of the way. Rumors, but if Mashiro was like this in Osaka, such scandal wouldn't be hard on the mind to imagine.

There was a scraping noise from behind the superintendent's desk as if someone was getting up. Yet being apparent that the Mashiro wasn't done, the assistant inspector didn't bother straightening from his bow.

"Oh, you have some skills and you pulled off that raid nicely, I'll give you that much. Don't get it into your head that you're all that because you confiscated a few boxes of opium. Let me remind you, Fujita, all that was proper procedures. That was all in your job description, and it's what you're supposed to be doing. What you did last night _wasn't_. Last night was avoidable."

He began to feel hard pressed in keeping on his smile. _Last night was as avoidable as this meeting, ahou. And I'd like to know which part of this rant fits into 'proper procedures.'_

Unaware of his intervening thoughts, Mashiro plowed on. "Last night you _greatly_ inconvenienced _many_ of your colleagues. Troupes had to be taken off patrol to clear that small alley from the massacre you caused; officers were overloaded with paperwork because of your scuffle. Those men were needlessly slaughtered! Just because you were given the special permission to wear a sword doesn't mean you have to use it. You're exactly the reason that the department is wrong to still retain sword bearing police. That way is dead, it only lets people brings about violent reactions that are no longer fit for this era."

Saitou's smile tightened imperceptibly. Mashiro was now descending into a rant about all sword bearing officers in general, likely for the reason he could not carry one himself, and rather than listening, Saitou's mind diverged to other areas.

On the same path but for different reasons, with wolf of Mibu thought back to last night. They had given him a name. While it was little to go on, it was the most development on the Ragnarok case since the opening of its file. The lead was a tenuous one at most and he probably shouldn't be too expectant, but it was a lead nonetheless. With the situation at current, and Mashiro's voice droned loudly in the background, as the inspector he would have his hands tied until this case could be put away. Which meant he couldn't get a free reign on his primary objective-

To his annoyance, a loud smash interrupted his thoughts and drew his attention back to Mashiro; the man had slammed his hand down on his desk. "Pay attention when I yell at you!!"

_Oh, I wouldn't miss that for my life. _"Keibu, I was listening. I was reflecting on your every word."

Whether Mashiro accepted that pathetic excuse or not, it seemed to have pacified him enough that he backed down a notch. "Either way, if those men could have given invaluable evidence. If what you claimed was true and they are related to that opium shipment, they could have answered some of our questions. Weren't you getting nowhere for that?"

It would appear that the situation safely defused. Finally straightening from his prostrate angle, Saitou schooled his features back to a polite exterior. "Hai, the prisoners were refusing to submit even under questioning. However," Saitou allowed a hint of malice, no more than a ripple on his peaceful smile, to enter his voice, "the men from last night were kind enough to supply a name before I had to defend myself." Saitou had been considering telling this news directly to Chief Uramura, the superintendent was plentiful gentler to communicate with, but it was worth it to see Mashiro's sudden look of surprise.

"Why didn't you say that earlier?"

"It had slipped my mind until now." The answer was stupid, but at least it went over better than the, _you were teaching me about proper procedures_, he was thinking. He doubt slighting the superintendent would have turned out well, especially when the man's face still flushed a dull sakura red from his earlier ire.

"How can you forget such a thing? Never mind, I don't want to know." Mashiro had regained his seat and was tapping his fingers on the desk. "But that proves they could have been a valuable source of information; too late for that after what you've done."

There was nothing he wanted more than to pull out a cigarette about now, perhaps besides leaving the room. Yet taking the cue from his superior, Fujita Gorou made another apologetic bow. "It won't happen again, keishi. I will go to fill out the paperwork on this now, and have them ready for you by this afternoon."

And perhaps it was because of his prostrate position that he missed the creature prowling outside the ground floor window. The dog, if the pitiful creature with the brown mangy coat could truly be called that, had somehow found its way up onto the ledge and walked precariously along its open frame. It sniffed about the shutters as if there may be food to be found in their layered ridges, and when none was forthcoming, it looked around elsewhere for its meal. The identity of the stray was doubtless, and probably the only reason it hadn't made its way into a warmed dish beside quality sake was because it had more bones than flesh on its meatless frame.

Saitou was first aware of its presence when a faint whine cut into his acute hearing through the thunder of Mashiro's tongue lashing. It came from somewhere from behind the superintendent and it was strange enough to warrant investigating.

Yet even as he lifted his head to check, it was too late to stop the puppy from leaping into the room.

His narrowed gaze widened considerably, and any thoughts of keeping his current role evaporated from his mind. There was a gift strapped to the puppy's angular back, one which too had which had a trail of red which was turning shorter by the second. _Too short,_ his mind shouted back in alarm.

He barely had time to recognize the dangerous device before the bomb exploded.

**

* * *

Endnotes-**

_geisha_ - Not to be mistaken for prostitutes (despite how I had used that connotation in the story), geisha are talented female entertainers. They are well versed in a variety of arts to make them pleasant company for those who hire them.

_genmaicha_ - It is a type of tea made from a blend of roasted brown rice and rice tea.

_shouji_ - The paper sliding doors/dividers for a Japanese room. Traditional shouji are made from rice paper stretched over a wooden frame.

_Different ranks in the police -_ From highest to lowest would be: _Keishi-sokan_ (Superintendent General), _Keishi-kan_ (Superintendent Supervisor), _Keishi-cho_ (Chief Superintendent), _Keishi-sei_ (Senior Superintendent), _Keishi_ (Superintendent), _Keibu_ (Police Inspector), _Keibu-ho_ (Assistant Police Inspector), _Junsa-bucho_ (Police Sergeant) and _Junsa_ (Policeman). There is also the position of _Junsa-cho_ (Senior Policeman), an unofficial rank given to exceptional Policemen. Go here for more information on ranks. http://www.iej.uem.br/police.htm#rank20

Historically, Saitou at this stage in time was officially only an assistant inspector and still had to answer to the inspector for his day to day duties. In Rurouni Kenshinm, Chief Uramura was in fact a superintendent, despite how he was always referred to as Chief. Lastly, Kawaji Toshiyoshi, the person who stopped Saitou and Kenshin's fight, was the Superintendent General; he's also the man who historically modernized the police system from the samurai police system to the one after the Meiji era. Chuckles Kawaji's probably the one I have to thank for my headache in trying to figure out the ranks used in this story.


End file.
